


Alive On Air

by Raven (singlecrow)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlecrow/pseuds/Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan, Shacklebolt, Lupin and Weasley, Underground Radio Journalists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive On Air

In a tiny hut with minimal furniture in a wide open field, someone said, "Can't say much about your taste in real estate, mate."

"I'll be sure to have it appraised in the morning," said Lee Jordan lazily. "You can't fault the view, though."

He was right. Fred stepped outside the door and took a moment to look up at the flawless starry sky. There was no artificial light for miles about, and the dusting of the Milky Way was a vivid, delicate sweep overhead. With a few quick murmurs, he set up shield charms and protection charms, muffling charms and wards. The rhythm of it, movement, words and magic, was chasing him through his dreams, these days. With a final flourish of his wand-tip, he turned to go inside.

"Carpet," George was saying. "You _carpeted_ the place?"

"Makes it more homely," Lee told him, unapologetic. He walked around the single room, casting warming spells against the bitterness of the winter night, and Fred could see his point. The minimal furniture and the stained walls were uninspiring. At least with Lee's conjured shag pile, they could sit on the floor and not on the painfully bare wooden chairs.

"Don't get too comfortable, though," George warned, succumbing to the urge to sprawl. He looked comfortable for the first time in a long while; Fred sat down and joined him, feeling himself relax with the simple movement of being able to lie back and stare at the ceiling. "We're not going to be here long," George continued. "I doubt if we'll be able to do even three of these things from the same place."

Lee was fiddling with his equipment. "Maybe, maybe not. If I could just figure out why it works some places, and not others..."

A sharp _crack_ made them all look up. "It's charmed," George was saying uselessly, even as they all jerked to their feet, hands going to their wands, "it's protected against intruders, it's got to be..."

The door opened, and the man on the other side threw back his hood, face ashen with tiredness. Lee and George began to drop their wands, but Fred didn't. Holding it up, pointed at Lupin's heart, he said quickly, "You gave me a detention, first day of fifth year. What was it for?"

"Filling my classroom with flowerpots," Lupin said, and Fred let his wand arm slump to his side. Lupin sank into a chair as though the strings holding him up had just been cut.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said. "It's getting harder and harder to get out here. There are rogue snatcher groups everywhere. I just managed to dodge them by flying into the Burrow rather than here."

He propped the broomstick by the wall, rolled up his sleeves and began, matter-of-factly, to clean the cuts and scratches. Off Fred's look, he said, "It's not that bad. Thorns and brambles, that sort of thing. Do you have any food?"

Wordlessly, Fred rummaged for a loaf of bread and block of cheddar taken from his mum's larder, and Transfigured his wand into a cutting-edge. Lupin ate delicately, but with a certain single-mindedness, and Fred pushed down whatever he might have been thinking. Brushing the crumbs from his fingers, Lupin murmured, "_Aguamenti_," and drank the water trickling from his wand.

"That won't do you any good," Fred said. "It's just an illusion. Gamp's Law..."

"...of Elemental Transfiguration, yes, I know." Lupin smiled. "I believe I taught it to you. And as for the illusion – I'll take what I can."

"You made it, though," Lee said bracingly. "And where's-"

_Crack_. This time Lupin joined them in pointing his wand at the door. Kingsley stepped through, and Fred snapped out, by reflex, "What is your greatest ambition?"

"Fred, you can't, we don't _know_–" George began, but Kingsley cut him off. In his deep bass voice, he said, "Buggering Remus Lupin."

A soft snort from Lupin, and they lowered their wands, inch by inch. "A word to the wise, gentlemen," Kingsley said. "Don't ask questions you don't know the answers to, for heaven's sake."

"Double-plus points for that answer, though," said Lupin, who was smiling wryly, though now slumped on the floor with the twins. "If any Death Eater in disguise had tried to say that, the words would have turned to ashes in their mouths."

Something about his tone made Fred ask, "How's Tonks?"

"Fine." His eyes warned: _drop it_, but weakly. There was something weak about all of Lupin's movements, as though he were trying to move through treacle. Fred recognised it, sort of; it got to him as well, him and everyone else. The feeling of being tired of running, body and mind. The key was to outrun it. They were all trying.

Fred shrugged. "It's Dad," he said, vaguely. "It's his secret question from Mum, it just came into my head. Kingsley, how's tricks? How's the Prime Minister?"

"He sends his love." Kingsley grinned; he, too, was cleaning blood away from his arms and hands. "He's not a bad bloke. Very aware that he gets a magical escort, and millions of his citizens don't."

"Right." Lee clapped his hands; while they'd been talking, he had been pulling dilapidated equipment out of sacks and begun the long process of setting up. "Now I've got you all present and correct, shall we begin? First of all, we don't even know if this is actually going to work tonight."

"It's the signal!" George sounded properly frustrated, which, Fred thought, was probably a first. "Sometimes the signal catches, gets out, everyone hears it. Sometimes they don't even hear it in the Burrow, and that's only two miles from here."

"About that." Lupin was looking more animated than he had been. "I've been doing some research on it, and there's a spell we can use – look, Fred, if you're not doing anything, come outside and I'll show you."

Fred left the others setting up the equipment amid much swearing, and followed Lupin outside. Motioning for Fred to hold back, Lupin drew his wand from his pocket and used it to mark out a large, irregular ellipse, containing himself and Fred but not the shack. It left no visible mark, but he was careful about it, taking his time. Fred didn't say anything.

"Right." Lupin stood up, muttered the incantation. "Fred, don't be frightened by this."

At first it looked like nothing was happening. Straining to listen, Fred heard the murmurs of voices from the hut, the calls of distant birds, and quieter still, Lupin's breathing undercutting his own, in and out in rhythm. The moment stretched out, until Lupin seemed to choke, doubling over and gasping for breath with hands covering his face.

And then he stood up. Fred froze as blue sparks exploded, snake-like and vivid, from Lupin's eyes and mouth, leapt along his arms and from his outstretched fingers, coalescing into silent lightning leaping towards the sky. For a long, long moment Fred saw it – pattern upon pattern, waves and concentric circles outlined in blue fire radiating from the zenith of the atmosphere. It was beautiful.

It lasted another couple of seconds before winking out, leaving burning afterimages across Fred's vision. As they faded, he realised, startled, that he hadn't made a sound. Neither had Lupin, who was on his knees, eyes open. He was grinning, and Fred took several enraged steps forwards before snapping, "What the hell was that? What did you _do_?"

Still smiling, Lupin accepted the proffered hand and walked briskly back towards the hut. "There you go," he said. "We'll be transmitting loud and clear tonight."

"Remus!" Suddenly, Fred was conscious of a wave of fear. "They'll see – the Death Eaters, the hunting parties, they'll have seen..."

Lupin shook his head. "No. Only you and I were within the circle. No one else would have seen. And as for what I did" – his voice was undercut with humour now they were safely inside – "I didn't _do_ anything. All I did was to show you what was already there. Quite an overdramatic little spell, I think, but useful. There are these things called _radio waves_. They're how all radios work, even magical ones. And when our transmissions fail, it's because we've set up camp somewhere where there's interference. Simple as that."

"But the spell..."

"Made the waves visible, if only for a moment. I read about it in a Muggle book. Muggles know a lot more about it than we do, you know. We draw our power from within ourselves, but they draw it from the world around them. When this is over, I'd quite like to do some more research on it. There must be great potential in combining the two types of knowledge."

"If it turns out you can make better Dungbombs out of it, let me know." He meant it, Fred decided. If Lupin needed a job, after this – and, hell, Lupin always needed a job – then setting him up with some books, his wand and instructions to cause havoc might not be a bad idea at all. _Dear old Moony_, Fred thought, and grinned. "Or, indeed, a quick and easy way to fill a room with flowerpots."

"Why did you do that?" Lupin asked, apparently genuinely curious. "I knew your reputation, of course. I was sure there must be some hidden gem of wit in that particular detour into surrealism, but I never figured it out."

"They were supposed to have actual flowers in them," Fred confessed. "I never was very good at inanimate-to-animate transfiguration, so it sort of went wrong." Off Lupin's blank look, he added, "Flowers. Pink ones. _Lupins_."

Lupin paused a moment, then laughed. "You're a good bloke, Fred. Weird, but I can cope with weird."

"What are you two doing?" Kingsley rumbled from his side of the table. The set-up was almost complete, Fred noted – four microphones jerry-built with hasty spell work and duct tape, the Weasleys' old gramophone, and about twenty coat-hangers wound together that had been collectively transfigured into a radio transmitter. Lupin strolled forwards, pulled out his wand and muttered a few words. It was a different, but similar spell – Fred recognised the livid blue-white colour of the sparks, which rose and merged into a globe suspended just above the table.

"Nothing." Fred was still smiling. "Lupin's been doing science again."

"It'll amplify the signal," Lupin said. "If we speak directly below it, I guarantee we'll reach everywhere in the country, and perhaps a little beyond."

"Then let's begin." Lee was looking at his watch, counting down the seconds – a few frantic gestures got them all to their seats, and suddenly music was playing. Lee let it play, then fade out. "This is River, transmitting on all frequencies. This is River, transmitting on all _possible_ frequencies. Is there anyone out there listening? We hope so."

"Unless you've all gone to the Caribbean to sip cocktails on the beach," Fred said. "That wouldn't be bad at all."

"Well, it would be bad for us," Lee said, "stuck here in the cold, but that's just the principle of the thing. Welcome to our second edition of _Potterwatch_, the show that tells you the truth!"

"Now, let's talk serious advice for a minute," George cut in. "Are you still keeping up your old habits? Ask your loved ones questions about themselves so you know it's them, and not Death Eaters in disguise."

"A good question," said Kingsley, "is something only they would know. What are their dearest ambitions, their earliest memories?"

"Their sexual fantasies?"

Lupin slapped Fred around the head, and Lee stifled a giggle. "I do apologise about my colleagues lowering the tone like this," he said smoothly. "After the show I'll give them a stern talking-to. Romulus? Any wise words?"

"Keep thinking about what you're going to do when the war is over," Lupin said thoughtfully. "That's important. Even if it's just getting very, very drunk."

"Thank you for that sage wisdom of ages. He'll be here all night, folks." Lee grinned. "We have no concrete news to impart this week, sorry to say. Communications have been bad, although Royal suggests that the Muggle Prime Minister sends his love to you all, which sounds implausible enough to be true so I'm repeating it anyway. Even if it isn't, we send ours. We hope you're all staying safe."

"There are some rumours to dispel, as usual," George said. "Listeners, You-Know-Who is not secretly poisoning cantaloupes and bananas, contrary to Xenophilius Lovegood. We can, at least, eat fruit in peace."

"Speaking of which" – Fred was still rubbing his head – "I know a lot of you out there are, like us, facing empty larders. Be resourceful, is all I can say. If you have to go into hiding, try and learn beforehand what plants are edible and what aren't; if you're stuck in your houses for days on end, learn every preservation charm you can. And in cases of the last resort, don't forget that Muggles have food, too. We're not advocating thievery, but remember, you don't have to pay in money. A protection charm on a Muggle home is probably better payment."

"And that, sadly, is it for this week," Lee said. "Before we stop, our usual finishing segment with Romulus, Pals of Potter."

"Harry Potter is still alive," said Lupin. With calculated lack of preamble, Fred thought; there was something endlessly calm about him now, some internal stillness holding him in his chair, eyes vivid and bright. "If he had been killed, the Death Eaters would have made sure we knew about it. He is our symbol, out there in the dark. Listen, I don't know if you're listening, Harry, or indeed if anyone is: but we're here. We're still here."

He breathed out. There was a silence which Lee broke, tentatively. "Password for next time is Fabian. And we're pretty sure there will be a next time, thanks to, er..."

"Technological advancement," supplied Lupin.

"Right. That's it from us. All of you out there, be safe and keep faith. We'll be back."

With a sweeping movement, Lupin pulled the globe down with his wand. It balanced on the tip, crackling ominously, and dissipated into nothingness. The loss of its light was startling. At once, Fred became aware of his friends' eyes, dim gleams in the shadows. Lee's warming charms were beginning to lose their power, and he was shivering.

"All right," George said at last. "We should get moving in case anyone's trying to trace the signal."

They worked quickly and in silence, putting the microphones into the sack, reverting the wires back into coat hangers, removing the carpet and pushing chairs under tables. As a final touch, Kingsley conjured a thick layer of dust onto the table and hung additional cobwebs from the roof.

Once they were finished, Fred whispered, "_Nox_."

The darkness was instantly suffocating, and they rushed out into the night on the field, under the stars. "Until next time," Lee said, and they were heading their separate ways – he and the twins to the Burrow, Lupin and Kingsley to London, but they were travelling apart. Less chance of triggering an ambush, and Fred understood the logic, but it made the night larger and emptier, the distance of two miles seeming endless through the fields.

Remembering just in time, Fred called out, "Kingsley! One last thing – what _is_ your greatest ambition, really?"

Kingsley smiled, his bulk reassuring in the darkness. "To grow old."

He disappeared with a crack. Lee and George were already gone. Lupin's hand caught in his and squeezed. _Goodbye_ – and then he was gone, too, a ragged-edged shadow soaring into the sky.


End file.
